


Where no one can hear you scream

by TrashMetal



Category: Halloween Movies - All Media Types, Rob Zombie's Halloween II (2009)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Gen, I suppose, Murder, Suffering, Torture, also a reference to sheriff Brackett because he's the only normal person in this movie, an attempt at describing bootiful scenery, i just rly don't know how to write what i attempt to write, i've never written Michael before but i just know that would be very OOC of him ok, implied Myers mom and her white horse, or just, you should count yourselves lucky that this didn't turn into the woundfucking-fic i thought it would
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-09
Updated: 2016-12-09
Packaged: 2018-09-07 12:57:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8801695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrashMetal/pseuds/TrashMetal
Summary: Another re-written scene from a movie I like 'cause that's as far as my imagination will go, apparently.(And yes, I like RZ's Halloween-movies... Big woop wanna fight about it??)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Don't write while you're absentminded, kids.

Coroner Gary Scott's broken screams rang out in small intervals, continuously, but nobody would come to his aid. He was wasting what little oxygen his crushed ribs allowed him, but he couldn't stop. Couldn't afford to stop. Even if the radio worked, there was no way for him to reach it with his broken arm but hey, the road they were on wasn't that far off. Someone would eventually hear him. They would come and help. Yes, they... they'd help.

Hooks, his colleague, was silent in the driver's seat and Gary knew better than to take a look at him; he knew what he'd see and that it wouldn't be pretty. _(Not like that stiff girl in the back, right?)_ Aw fuck, he might actually be going to hell.

It hit him that he was the only living thing in their general area now; he was trapped in the tangled wreckage of their van together with three dead bodies and, given the nature of his profession, the prospect had never bothered him much before. But now... he was all alone, and he was cold but also too warm in the cramped space. He spit up more blood and tried to breathe calmly, some more panicked 'fucks' leaving his mouth as if that would help.

The moon resurfaced from behind dull gray clouds, casting the disastrous scene in a ghostly, yet somehow beautiful, light. Fog was creeping in from between the trees, the stars having come out to playfully wink down at them. It was a beautiful night, to be honest. Thinking about literally anything except how much he hurt actually seemed to help a tiny bit, until something big blocked off his view of that brilliantly shining moon, drawing another hoarse scream from him as he was forcibly yanked out of the passenger door and thrown onto the asphalt beneath.

Hitting the ground with a wheezy shout, he swore he could feel the rest of his ribcage actually cave in under the pressure. Maybe he was just being a big baby, but in any case it hurt, so who really gave a shit? And great, one side of his head also hit the pavement so he was gonna have a headache now too. _Oh god it hurts, oh Jesus._

Not beating around the bush, the tall figure walked back over to his crumpled useless form and easily hoisted him up by his collar, more blood coming up his throat as a result. Who the f– Oh... _Oh._ It was him; that “dead” body that had required six men to so much as lift him a few inches off the ground. That big guy who'd went on a rampage around town the whole night...; the killer of that girl in the back.  
How in the _fuck_ was he still alive after being shot point-blank in the face?!

Gary wanted to tear himself free and make a break for it, now that he was outside the wreckage, but he knew his legs wouldn't carry him that far. His whole body was basically against him, truth be told, which meant his only hope for salvation was to reason with the guy. Maybe play dead, if worst came to... worser.  
His eyes searched the man's in a frenzy, looking for any sign of humanity or mercy in them, but all he saw was a black mass behind that red-specked white mask. He wondered how much could even be left of the guy's face at all by now.

“G... get your f-fuh... fucking hands off me”, he wheezed at the man, instantly regretting it. He never was good with words.

The man tilted his head slightly, questioningly. It reminded Gary of a fucking puppy, of all things _(a rabid puppy going to tear out your throat, maybe)_.  
He was almost about to rephrase his demand, feeling a tiny bit of hope reignite at the thought that he – some average joe – had managed to give this relentless killer pause.

That sliver of hope barely had any time to vanish before the bigger man tightened his grip, mustering all of his hulking, brutish strength into throwing Gary back onto the pavement. He couldn't stop the pained cry forcing its way out of his lungs at the impact.  
Honestly, he wasn't happy with the way his life had been going per se; he'd considered taking the easy way out on some half-drunk occasions, but... this was not the way he wanted to go. It hurt too much; was too drawn-out.

The man above him didn't care about his comfort in the least, but Gary still allowed himself the hope that throwing him back down had been a good thing; that the killer was gonna leave him behind and go do whatever else inhuman freaks like him did. Right now, though, the man seemed to be getting closer. So close that Gary almost thought he could hear harsh breathing from underneath the lifeless mask.  
Gary's body seized up on him, literally paralyzed with fear. He hadn't exactly been a model human being but he still reckoned he didn't deserve to die. There had to be some justice left for the everyday-man, right? It wouldn't be fair otherwise.

“P-please, man, _fuck_... I promise I... won't say a-anything”, he pleaded, sounding smaller and more pathetic than ever. Just finishing the sentence was a chore, and it left him even more breathless than earlier.  
There was a brief pause, which Gary took as a sign to continue pleading with the giant above him. _He wasn't deaf, was he?_  
No sooner had the second “please” left Gary's mouth, though, than the killer rose back up, harshly planting his heavy, boot-clad foot right into his bruised stomach, sending a disgusting mixture of blood and bile out of his mouth as he reflexively jerked his head back. He braced his palms against the wet asphalt underneath in a fruitless attempt to get away from the nightmarish weight pinning him down, only succeeding in scraping his palms open and making his broken arm give a painful reminder of its existence.

The beastly man didn't give him enough time to prepare himself for the next onslaught either, he just stomped right back down, this time onto Gary's battered ribcage. There was a dull crack and a flash-flood of white-hot pain. Gary almost laughed at himself for thinking the pain he'd felt before was as worse as it could get. But he couldn't laugh, in fact he could barely even scream. It hurt each time he tried to take a breath, but he needed to... He couldn't _breathe_. And the giant man kept on stomping, like Gary's body was a piece of meat in need of tenderization.

He tried to move onto his side when another heavy footfall came down, grinding down on his aching, shattered ribs to really drive the pain home. The only sounds Gary could manage now were gargled shrieks each time the blows hit him. There was barely any blood left to cough up, and yet there was so much he needed to get out.  
He was crying in earnest now, uselessly trying to shield his abdomen and wishing he could take Hooks' place in the wrecked car.

The killer was grunting above him, like some fucking bear. Either the assault was tiring him out, or it just served as more fuel to his rage at this point. If Gary's vision hadn't been going black around the edges, he might've tried to discern the face behind the mask again. How could that goddamn freak still be alive? It didn't make sense! But hell, Gary wasn't sure how he himself was still alive either.  
He began sucking in as large a breath as he could muster – one last cry for help – when the killer's foot came down again and Gary's chest gave way, the boot continuing to crush its way down onto his heart, which the killer mashed to gory pieces without a hint of hesitation. 

Gary's last breath left him in another spray of blood, vision finally going black, but he could still feel that inbred cocksucker's fucking foot on him – _inside_ him. Some blood he thought he didn't have left bubbled up in his throat.  
Would anybody come looking for them when they didn't come back to the morgue with the bodies? More than likely. It remained to be seen whether they'd be able to apprehend the killer a second time, though.

The sheriff had said he didn't want any more surprises tonight, but well... a surprise was coming nevertheless.

\-------------------

Michael was looking down at his most recent kill; a gaping chest cavity, a mess of flesh not deserving of life. He'd rectified that now; silencing the pathetic waste of a man. If he still knew how to feel, Michael might've been satisfied. Instead, he turned back around to carry on the way he'd been going before the (now dead) man had foolishly drawn attention to himself.

He didn't have a plan, and his weapon had been taken from him way back in town, but he didn't need any of those things to continue on his destined path– he could make due with anything. Right now, there was only one thing he knew he had to do; go to that voice carried to him through the cold mist, beckoning him over like it always did.

It was time to return back _home_.


End file.
